Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2

by Kirill Klevanski

  ***

  “We didn’t invite you to come here, General,” the Master continued. “Leave our mountains.”

  Hadjar didn’t agree with his father, not completely. A true king didn’t just serve his people. He served those who needed his help, who were weak; those who couldn’t stand up for themselves and raise their sword in rebellion against the Heavens and the Earth.

  “…go and fight Balium. We won’t interfere…”

  A king didn’t choose the easy way out. He fought for his own reasons. And Hadjar had plenty of those.

  The two million Baliumians fighting under his banner. All of them longed for retribution and justice, desperately wanted their freedom after so long.

  The three hundred thousand soldiers from Lidus who wanted to go back home and once again embrace their wives and mothers, fathers and husbands. Everything came down to Hadjar’s decision.

  He wasn’t a king or a prince, but he was a general.

  Hadjar placed the bowl back on the table and looked into the Master’s eyes.

  He didn’t have time to scream, nor give a command.

  The table and the man’s bodyguards were swept away by a wave of energy that left a crater in the spot where they’d been sitting.

  Wiping the blood off his injured hands, the Master got back up from the ground and issued orders to his troops.

  The Mad General was ready to fight them, his sword drawn. His dragon roar shook the thousand-year-old mountains, echoed by the roar of his own army descending upon the enemy like a vengeful tide.

  Chapter 166

  “You’re even dumber than I thought!” The Master shouted as he rose to his feet. His iron mask seemed to move together with the muscles of his face. “We’ll kill them all. We’ll skin them alive! We’ll boil them in cauldrons and dump their bodies onto the rocks. Blood will rain and their cries will be so loud that they’ll sound like a hurricane! You’ll be killed by your own men in retaliation for their pain!”

  The Master’s shouts were drowned out by the roar of the two armies charging toward each other. The clash of metal against metal and the cries of the warriors merged into a terrible symphony of war. The ground trembled under the hooves of Hadjar’s horse that kept trying to turn around, but the General held it firmly in place. He went around the Master and his bodyguards.

  Alone, he raced to engage the oncoming enemy army which numbered in the millions.

  “If you have time,” he said as he passed by the Master and met his gaze for a moment.

  He read surprise and honest confusion in those bright, green eyes.

  Behind Hadjar, a sea of men and horses was rushing down the rocky slope. Their steel armor shone. Millions of soldiers followed their General into battle.

  They saw his white horse racing forward, his red cloak fluttering behind him. The cloak was intended to act as a target for the enemy archers and cannoneers to focus on—that’s why Hadjar had chosen that color. He wanted to draw their fire upon himself.

  Hadjar felt Lian’s signal with his sixth sense.

  “Ready!” The officer shouted, standing on the highest rock she could find to ensure she had a good view.

  Hundreds of thousands of her subordinates stood around her. Their arrowheads shone like bared fangs. The muzzles of their guns and cannons were as dark as the abyss.

  Hadjar thrust Moon Beam into the sky and the whistling of arrows and the roar of powder charges added to the war symphony. The arrows and cannonballs were so numerous that they covered the sky, plunging the day into an impenetrable darkness.

  Riding in the shadow of that barrage, the Mad General flew over the first ranks of the sectarians, looking like a dragon with its wings extended. He landed in the center, between the third and fourth ranks of their army.

  Pulling on its bridle, he urged his white stallion onto its hind legs. It neighed, but instead of hearing the sound, Hadjar felt only the vibration of the horse’s mighty chest. He mentally apologized to his mount for its fate.

  The General swung his sword and it whizzed through the air, leaving elusive silhouettes of dancing dragons behind in its wake. This also sent waves of steel light outward. But, unlike regular waves, these didn’t wash over the sectarians.

  On the contrary.

  The first screams were heard all around. The steel waves contained razor-sharp blades, and a dragon danced atop them, hungry for enemy flesh. Steel armor turned to dust and blood flowed in rivers. The severed limbs and heads made for a gory spectacle as they flew in every direction.

  One swing of Hadjar’s blade killed at least three dozen disciples at the Bodily Rivers stage. They didn’t stand a chance against a swordsman who was One with the World, and even close to becoming a Wielder of the Sword.

  Hadjar’s sword moved faster than an ordinary practitioner could see. Even the Master, who’d rushed over to help his disciples and subordinates, could only discern a flash that took the form of a steel dragon for a moment.

  The soldiers of the Moon Army filled the gorge. They were led by Commander Nero who was wearing steel armor and holding his heavy blade up high. His bloodthirsty cry was drowned out by the roar of the cannonballs.

  Hadjar jumped to the ground, sinking ankle-deep into the blood and guts. He looked at his horse with pity, then put the talisman in its saddlebags and, tearing off the blinders, immediately slapped it on the rump.

  The stallion, fully aware of the danger surrounding it, immediately spun on the spot. It tried to run toward the first ranks, but the General’s strong hand guided it in the opposite direction.

  Without any hesitation, the white horse charged into the middle of the sectarian cavalry who were stampeding toward the enemy General on their odd bull hybrids. He stood still, even as he was surrounded by foes. His sword was pointing toward the ground and a wind was spinning around him.

  Hadjar assumed the second stance. He’d changed it after learning more about the essence of the sword. A tornado no longer swirled around him. Instead, a sea of calmness flowed around his sword and extended further, covering him as well.

  When arrows and cannonballs rained down on the sectarians, they didn’t touch the Mad General. Contrary to what had happened before, they hadn’t changed their trajectory or been deflected toward the enemy. They’d just frozen around him like raindrops.

  Hadjar raised his sword and his personal cloak of darkness, left behind by the amassed fire of hundreds of cannons and thousands of archers, vibrated.

  Thousands of people screamed and cried out. They were crushed and torn apart by exploding cannonballs as well as riddled by the steel-tipped arrows. When his horse’s saddlebags exploded, producing a real fire storm, Hadjar lowered his sword. All those cannonballs frozen over his head flew in different directions.

  The arrows that had been ‘captured’ by the second stance became the ghostly dragon’s fangs, while the cannonballs were turned into its powerful claws. The former pierced the soldiers, turning their bodies into sieves. The latter crushed the sect warriors’ bodies like they were made of glass.

  Then the Bear squad rammed into the ranks of the sectarians. From their standards, Dogar watched his former assistant. It was as if he was glad to be fighting in a battle once more, side by side with his comrades.

  A bloody, macabre waltz began. Every new ‘step’ that the General made filled the sky with blood and viscera. Dozens of enemy soldiers died in seconds.

  Hadjar’s sword met no true opposition, no matter how skillful the practitioner of the Bodily Rivers level that stood before him was. It didn’t matter if they fought with war hammers or wore heavy plate armor, it cut through them all with the same ease it would’ve been able to part water with.

  With the help of the neuronet, Hadjar followed the Master’s movements. He was stuck somewhere in the thick of battle. Held back by Lergon’s cavalry, he was trying to break through to the General, but couldn’t get past them while also suppressed by Lian’s best archers.

  This meant the plan was going
well so far.

  “I’m not even surprised when I find you surrounded by enemies anymore!”

  Hadjar felt another man’s back against his. It was reliable and robust, just like his own.

  “You’re here!” the General greeted the friend.

  Working together, they covered the black sand with bodies and blood. If the gods allowed it, trees would be growing here by next spring. After all, the previously lifeless soil had been ‘fertilized’ so well by their swords.

  “What do we do about that?” Nero snarled, pointing his blade at the gigantic, shaggy bull.

  Analysis of the object...

  Threat level for the object ‘Moon Army’:

  super-lethal

  Recommendation:

  total destruction

  Action plan development...

  The sectarians unleashed their trump card in this battle. The absolutely massive beast scattered the sect’s warriors in front of it and blocked the shots of the archers and cannoneers from the Moon army as it slowly moved toward the center of the battle. If it got there, just moving its feet would be enough for it to trample thousands of Moon soldiers to death.

  Riding ahead of the mountain pretending it was a bull, some riders astride the sect’s unique horse-bull-goat mounts were racing toward Hadjar and Nero.

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it!”

  Chapter 167

  Nero nodded and stood in front of his friend.

  Hadjar hadn’t sparred with his commander for a long time, but he’d always felt that Nero never stopped growing stronger. The warrior, whose hair had become black again because of the ash and smoke in the air, moved his right hand forward and swung his blade wide as he held it in his left.

  The General didn’t know what Technique his friend was going to use but believed in him nonetheless. A whirlwind of power sprung up around Nero. It wasn’t as rapid and sharp as Hadjar’s, but it was larger and somehow heavier. As if Nero wasn’t holding a sword, but an enormous mace.

  Hadjar was guarding his friend’s back, repelling the sectarians’ attacks. One of them tried to attack Nero from the side and lost his leg in the process. His body was flung back at his fellow sectarians.

  Sticking to tried and true methods, the Mad General was using the enemies’ own bodies as cannonballs.

  Assuming a low stance, Hadjar swung his sword, sending a wall of cutting wind toward the enemy. It contained dozens of blades which merged into the silhouette of a dragon that proceeded to shred the sectarians.

  This bought Nero enough time to use his Technique.

  The commander swung his blade, launching something that resembled a ship’s prow. Carving through the ground, it crushed the sectarians in its path and plowed through them, none of them able to even slow it down.

  It sailed along the ground for a good hundred yards before the Technique fizzled out and disappeared in a haze of light.

  This was enough to allow Hadjar to jump up on a bull that had lost its rider while deflecting the simultaneous attacks of several swordsmen. Unlike an ordinary horse, this creature was so wide that it was impossible for him to get his legs fully around its bulk. Hadjar managed to find special stirrups built into the monster’s armor, however, using them to guide it.

  “Hurry!” Shouting loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the battle and the thunder of the cannonballs, Hadjar extended a hand toward his friend.

  Nero grabbed it and the General hauled him onto the mount. Clutching the heavy chain reins, Hadjar directed the docile animal toward the huge bull.

  Fire flared around them, even as ash and smoke covered the battlefield. The whistle of cannonballs and arrows made Nero and Hadjar bend down, almost touching the bull mount’s steel armor with their faces.

  The Master raged behind them, trying to get past the circling cavalrymen, who, sometimes at the cost of their lives, were keeping him from joining the fight.

  Swords glittered as they struck shields and clashed with sickles, dismembered bodies littered the field, and people howled like wounded wolves.

  Dirt and sweat covered the combatants’ faces. Their eyes were completely devoid of anything human. At that moment, the Baliumians, the sectarians, and the Moon army soldiers were more like the animals they’d fought recently.

  “Why,” Nero beheaded several riders, “do you always get to hold the reins?”

  Hadjar swore. He jumped up abruptly and stood on the mount. After that, he jumped. Spinning like a whirlwind, he killed one of the riders and took control of her bull.

  After throwing the woman’s body on the ground, he sat down in the saddle of this new animal.

  “Is that better?” He yelled once he caught up to his friend.

  Now each of them had his own mount as they raced toward the huge monster that threatened their entire army with its mere presence. The people who got in its way would be flung into the air and splatter on the ground like rotten fruit. Their screams would assault the ears for a moment before they disappeared underneath the monstrosity’s giant hooves, which were each as large as a tavern.

  “Yes, actually!” Nero answered cheerfully even as he was assessing the full scope of their problems.

  He swapped his sword back to his right hand and snatched a spear from the hands of another sect member with his left. The motion was so violent that the rider was sent flying, ending up trampled by the mounts of their pursuers.

  However, the enemy riders would never catch up with the two friends.

  The bull that had lost its rider stumbled. It dug its horns into the ground, which caused its mighty neck to bend at an impossible angle with a crunch. Then its body collapsed, causing the other pursuers to collide with it and then each other, ending up in a gruesome pile of horns, bodies, and crumpled metal.

  “Showoff!” Hadjar cried while killing an enemy using several sword strikes.

  As they rode forward, they easily killed two riders and their beasts.

  “You’re one to talk!”

  With just a nod to each other, they simultaneously pulled on the reins of their mounts, heading off in different directions. They went around the huge, shaggy monster, each taking a different side. While continuing to battle the sectarians, they also had to dodge the enormous hooves of the strong but not very cultivated animal.

  After punching a man’s helmet into his skull, Hadjar raised his sword and slashed the monster where a tendon was usually located. The sword easily sank into its flesh almost to the hilt, and the General’s suspicions were confirmed.

  The creature was large and heavy, but those were all of its strengths.

  Pulling out his blade and noticing that Nero had also handled the other leg, Hadjar galloped on. Along the way, he caught the sect archers’ shots, sending the arrows back at the enemy.

  Each of these arrows hit a mount in the eye, forcing it to rear up on its hind legs and drop its rider. The rider would then immediately disappear under the hooves of the other beasts, becoming a bloody mess of pulped flesh and ruined metal.

  Avoiding the huge shadows cast by the animal’s legs, Hadjar reached his goal. He struck once more and the blood that gushed out of this new wound almost swept a bull and its rider away.

  No loud roar came, nor did the monster fall. It was still, slowly and steadily, moving toward the center of the battle. The four wounds inflicted by the General and the officer were no worse than simple cuts as far as it was concerned.

  “Well, what are we going to do now?” Nero yelled, riding next to his friend.

  They spun on the spot, fighting off the foes that had surrounded them. Leaving a river of stinking blood in its wake, the monster continued moving forward inexorably.

  “Follow my lead!” Hadjar cried.

  He pushed off from his bull’s rump and soared into the air. Some sectarians even forgot about the battle, entranced by the smooth, floating movements of the warrior in simple clothing. He flew over the heads of the riders and their mounts, only touching them with h
is toes.

  “Oh, sure! Easy!”

  Cursing, Nero turned his own bull around and charged forward. A moment before the collision, remembering the fate of one of his enemies, the commander grabbed a spear and thrust it into the ground.

  Shouting and waving his hands comically, propelled by his own inertia, Nero flew out of the saddle and, overtaking the astonished Hadjar, crashed into the monster’s leg. As he was sliding down, he managed to stick his sword into it and hold on.

  Through the screams of the dying, the ringing of steel, and the whistling of arrows, Hadjar heard his friend’s angry remark: “Curse you, Hadj.”

  Chapter 168

  Pushing off from the last helmet, Hadjar flew a few yards and plunged his blade into the huge bull’s flesh. It didn’t even notice these two ‘extra passengers’ and continued to move forward at a sedate pace.

  It didn’t care about the cannonballs tearing into its flesh, or the arrows covering its whole left side.

  “Hurry up,” Hadjar said, exhaling.

  Nero hung about ten feet below Hadjar. Both of them strained their arms and simultaneously sent themselves flying upward, pulling their blades out of the monster’s flesh, and then stabbed them into its meaty limb again. They climbed up the bull’s leg like this.

  The higher they went, the less clear the battlefield became, gradually turning into a hodgepodge of black and silver dots. Sometimes, when the monster took a plodding step, it was possible to see the thin, red threads that permeated the gorge—from a bird’s eye view, the rivers of blood looked like thin threads.

  Leap after leap, the two warriors climbed ever higher. But after a while, their progress slowed.

  Archers ran over to them from the wooden fortification that had been built on the huge bull’s neck. They were dark-skinned, with braided hair and compact bows. Hadjar immediately recognized them—these were the nomads.